


Drink to your heart's desiring

by La Reine Noire (lareinenoire)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Drunkenness, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2020-12-28 19:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lareinenoire/pseuds/La%20Reine%20Noire
Summary: "If Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, the four brightest blokes Hogwarts has seen in generations, can't decorate a bloody Christmas tree, there is something very wrong with this world."





	Drink to your heart's desiring

**Author's Note:**

> Written for norisis as part of [hp_holidaygen 2009](https://hp-holidaygen.livejournal.com/36058.html), then posted on FictionAlley. Title comes from 'Ceremonies for Christmas' by Robert Herrick. Many, many thanks to rosamund for beta-reading and picking apart my grammar.

The tree was wobbling.

Lily froze, one delicate sphere of hand-blown glass cradled in her palm, and hoped against all hope that the massive pile of pine needles wasn't about to topple directly onto her. That would be just the thing.

Snatching up her wand with her other hand, she pointed it at the foot of the tree and cast _Immobilus_. "Now," she said aloud in perplexity, "why didn't I just do that in the first place?"

"Muggle stubbornness," James' voice informed her from the kitchen. "You claimed you knew far better than me."

Lily stuck out her tongue in her husband's general direction. "I still think the tree stand is a good idea, just in case. Spells don't last forever, you know."

"Neither does Christmas," Sirius added, dropping onto the sofa behind her. "And I would remember if a Christmas tree had fallen over when I was growing up, so it seems to me that charms must work."

"To be fair, Pads, we don't know _what_ sorts of charms your family used. Might have involved human sacrifice or something." As James spoke, he pushed a mug of mulled cider into Lily's free hand. "There. It'll calm you."

"Calm me?" she echoed, eyes narrowing. "I'm perfectly calm, thank you very much." Even though they were behind her, she could just imagine the look her husband and his best friend were exchanging.

"Lily," Sirius lowered himself onto the floor next to her, "why don't you have a rest? I'll finish this in no time at all."

"But that's not the _point_, Sirius! Decorating the tree is part of Christmas, isn't it?" At the blank expressions on both men's faces, she sighed. "Oh, very well. At least leave the wireless on."

Sirius waited until one of the upstairs doors had closed behind Lily before looking quizzically at James, who sighed. "I don't know. She's been like this for days now."

"I'm sure it's nothing," he offered, levitating three of the ornaments and placing them on the tree. "Everything all right at work?"

"I can't see why not. She hasn't mentioned anything. Maybe..." he trailed off. "It's odd. She keeps talking about her parents and her old house."

"Maybe she misses them. You can't blame her for that."

"Of course I don't. I just wish she'd _say_ something, you know. I'm not a mind reader."

Sirius opened his mouth, but before he could say anything more, the doorbell rang. As James went to answer it, he continued to hang ornaments on the tree mechanically, lost in thoughts.

"You do realise you've got a large clump of red balls over here?" Remus was laughing, his nose almost as red as the ornaments in question. "Where did you learn to decorate Christmas trees?"

"Nice to see you too," retorted Sirius. "Evening, Wormtail."

Peter too was studying the tree. "Yeah, that won't do at all. Where's Lily?"

"Everyone's a critic." Sirius pointed at the stairs. "She's resting. I thought I'd help, but apparently I am incompetent."

"Oh, shut up. Nobody's falling for that," James said, his voice muffled by the press of new coats in the closet. "Come on, now. If Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, the four brightest blokes Hogwarts has seen in generations, can't decorate a bloody Christmas tree, there is something very wrong with this world."

"There are many things wrong with this world, Prongs, and the fact that there is not nearly enough alcohol in my drink is one of them," said Sirius with a grimace. "Mulled cider is all well and good, but..." He stopped, eyes brightening with an idea. "Where's that bottle of Black Seal I gave you for Christmas last year?"

"Cupboard beneath the wireless." James frowned. "Wish I'd thought of that."

"This is why I will always be cleverer than you."

"And _this_ is why Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, the four brightest blokes Hogwarts has seen in generations, never got anything _done_," Peter said, ducking behind Remus.

"Because certain among them--" Remus was promptly hit with an embroidered cushion, "--who shall remain nameless, although I am going to count one Wormtail because he can't keep his mouth shut..."

"Point taken." James heaved himself to his feet. "So, how exactly do you decorate a tree?"

"You mean you don't know how?" Peter emerged from behind Remus, and the second pillow hit him in the face. "Are you actually serious?"

"Haven't you ever heard of house-elves?"

"Not at home," retorted Peter. "Some of us had to do things for ourselves, you know."

James opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius shoved the bottle of rum at him. "You. Rum. Cider. Now. We'll handle the rest."

Muttering, James retreated to the kitchen. Sirius eyed the tree dubiously. "Right. You both are obviously the experts."

"It's not difficult, Pads. You pick up the ornament, like so," Remus picked up a glass bell, "thread the hook through here, and hang on branch as such."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "But that's so _slow_."

"There are four of us. I'm sure we can manage."

And manage they did, slowly but surely. And if, perhaps, the ornaments were somewhat askew, and the gold star only precariously balanced at the top of the tree--held in place by a strategic Sticking Charm--all four were willing to attribute that to the half-finished bottle of rum left by the hob.

James sank onto the sofa with a groan. "The things I do for my wife."

"The things _we_ do for your wife," Remus corrected him, downing the last of his rum-laced cider. "Is there more?"

"I don't..." Sirius waved vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. "Maybe. You should look."

"Oh, _my_!"

They all jumped to their feet, some steadier than others. Lily was standing at the foot of the stairs, eyes wide, gazing at the Christmas tree. "But it's perfect!"

"Blood, sweat, and tears," Remus said.

"And rum," added Peter.

She laughed. "I suspected the rum; you can smell it from the bedroom. I half-expected to come downstairs and find pirates." For a moment, the smile faltered. "James, there's something I need to tell you."

Torn, James looked first at her and then back at his friends. "Alone?"

"I...I don't know," she confessed, hands fluttering. "I've never...oh, hang it all! We're going to have a baby."

The silence filled the room, seemed to stretch endlessly. Lily looked desperately at each in turn, twisting her wedding ring round her finger. "Oh, for God's sake, one of you, _say_ something!"

"I think Sirius is a very distinguished name for a child." That earned him a punch in the shoulder from both Remus and Peter, while James continued to stare at his wife.

Finally, a smile broke across his face, and, before Lily knew what was happening, he'd grabbed her and begun spinning her around the room. "James, the _tree_! Watch out!"

"I can't believe it. You. Me. A _baby_..." Suddenly, he stopped, panic filling his voice. "But, what are we going to do? I mean, it's a little person. What if we drop it? What if _I_ drop it? I dropped about three of those bloody ornaments, and you can't cast _Reparo_ on a baby..."

"You. Shut. Up." Lily was laughing almost too hard to speak. "It's far more difficult to drop a baby than you might think."

"Don't underestimate him, Lily. Our Prongs is a talented man." This time, both pillows hit Sirius at the same time, knocking him back onto the sofa.

But Lily wasn't paying any attention, her eyes on James. "You'll be a wonderful father, James Potter." With a faltering smile, she added, "I'll have you know my taste in men is highly regarded, so you damned well better be, for my sake if not your own."

"For you," he replied with a grin, "anything."

"And," Lily stepped around James to glare at Sirius, "I cannot believe I am saying this, but this baby will need godparents eventually, and even though you are a collection of ne'er-do-wells, you've succeeded in keeping James out of _too_ much trouble, so I suppose you'll have to do."

"Padfoot," James said, turning to look at Sirius. "Will you?"

Remus put his hand in the air. "Do you really want to entrust _Padfoot_ with that much responsibility?"

"Are you suggesting something, Moony?" Sirius drawled, grinning widely. "It would be an honour, mate."

"Not that we won't spoil him with you," Peter said with a grin. "Or her."

"Of course not, are you daft? This will be the most spoiled baby Britain's ever seen. Just you wait." Sirius rose from the sofa and shook James' hand. "Felicitations."

"You're bloody pretentious, do you know that?"

"You wouldn't know me if I weren't."

"You're both impossible," Lily said with an expressive eyeroll. "Now, who wants to bring the expectant mother some hot butterbeer?"


End file.
